Not Gonna Give Up
by helpless.smile
Summary: A bad day will get anyone thinking. You find out things about yourself, about the people around you, that you other wise wouldn't. From a little bit of pain you can gain alot. L/S.


_A/N: So, Its 2am and I decided I wasn't tired enough yet to sleep. I tried to write a fic to kill some time. I had no idea where it was going when I wrote the first line. So it may not make all that much sense. But sorry, I have really unusual sleeping patterns and when I write it generally is the _product_ of cars driving passed in early hours of the morning preventing me from sleep. _

_I'll let you all decide if it should be a multi-chapter fic or just a oneshot. Don't be afraid to tell me to stop right here, coz I don't care too much. But if someone out there does want me to go on I'm telling you know this wont be a long one. Just a few chapters. I'll try to make them longish though. _

_This is set somewhere in season 5. I have no idea where. You can decide. This chapter is from Lilly's point of view. If I do another chapter it will change... maybe._

_Okay, well I'm gonna shut up relatively soon. I'm actually like really tired now._

**Not Gonna Give Up**

_Disclaimer:_ _Nothing is mine. Lets get pretty clear on that._

There are times when we all feel like shit. We all feel like we are nothing and can hardly see the point of it all. The day started off like any other, but as I sat with my head resting on a pillow on the edge of my couch I decided it was one of 'those' days.

People leave me and thats a fact. It all started long ago when I was just a kid. My own father was the first to start that popular trend in my life. I remember it all vividly.

He crouched down in front of me, his eyes piercing into mine like needles. He didn't say a word. Didn't need to, nothing he could say would change anything. He stood up and my mother yelled something from across the room. Next thing, I remember I was in my bed. Chris next to me, clutching her stuffed, pink bunny close to her chest. Tears rolled down her cheeks and I wiped them as they fell. I told her it would be ok, that he was going to come back. I had hope. What seven year old kid wouldn't? He wasn't supposed to leave. He was supposed to be one of the few people who would stick around and watch you grow up, watch you live.

I soon realized that no amount of wishing would ever bring him back. He was gone for good and I hated him for that.

Slowly, but painfully every other existing family member I knew left. With Chris, hell, I don't even know where she went for a while. And when I did know where she was and what she was doing I definitely wanted to have no clue.

I stuck with my mom for longer than I should have. From the time I could walk it seemed she had me out at midnight getting her that final drink before she would pass out on the couch and I'd be left to get her a blanket and clean up the mess she made. This was my routine for most of my childhood and I was too scared to leave it.

I smartened up. Got the hell out of there and tried to do something that I wanted to do. And I did. I managed to work my way up to homicide where I felt like I could truly do something right. Make a difference, even if it was only a small one.

It wasn't so much the satisfaction of taking scum bags off the street that got to me. It was the idea I had in my head after the first case I ever had. The moment I wrote "CLOSED" in big, bold letters on the edge of the box lid gave me the sense that it was finally time for that victim to have peace. To move on... wherever it is they move on to. I feel that with that certain closure and justice that we on homicide bring it can take away a little bit of pain from who ever's life was rattled to the core by something or someone. We can't take away all the pain, I know that but I like to think there is something we do that helps even slightly.

Between all this, many more had walked into my life than hurried back out. There was the guy who thought I would always be the girl who was willing to jump on the back of his Harley and go anywhere, at anytime just to escape with him. That was Ray. There were the guys who thought they could change me. They didn't understand. They didn't try to and they left, following in the foot prints of whoever it was that walked out the door before them.

I questioned myself. One too many times I'm sure. I wondered what it was about me that repelled anyone from sticking around for too long. I wondered why it was that whenever I let anyone anywhere near my heart they would break it.

I used to hate all this about me. Now though, I have grown to understand. This is all just who I am. I'm Lilly Rush, the ice queen. The lone wolf cop, that survives only by burying herself into someone else's life in hope to bring them something they now can't bring themselves. I pride myself on the fact I don't need to depend on anyone but myself. I have myself and that's the only one I need.

That works for me. For the most part anyway. But it's days like today that screw up my world and push stupid thoughts into my head. What's worse is that these days are nothing out of the ordinary. They are 'normal' days, in my 'normal' life.

I wake up. I go to work. I come home, to be greeted by soft meows that I hope mean 'I'm glad your home'. That's all. I get home and I have no one to call, no one to see later and no one who will be there that next morning ready to start the day again with me.

So, its times like these I sit on my couch, flick through channels pointlessly knowing I don't even want to watch TV and wish I had some one to argue with over what show we were both going to watch.

I start thinking about all the times I've spent here wishing there was someone next to me. Not too long ago, my mom died. Drunk herself to death. I'd seen it coming, so did she but she didn't do a god damned thing about it. I had sat here on the coach. My arms wrapped around my legs, which were pressing against my chest. I just wanted to escape from reality, crawl up in a ball. So, I did. I sat on my couch trying to make myself feel smaller in a hope that I would disappear and than in an effort to forget the pain I went to the only place I knew how... work. And then I got shot. That was just a cherry on top of a perfect day, right?

I went to hospital and woke up in a room so white it gave me a head ache and the only people who were there were the guys from work. I had no family, no one who loved me... just the guys. I don't even know if they considered me a friend, we were colleagues. But they sure of hell were the closest things to friends that I had.

I remember Scotty sitting beside my bed. Not saying a word. His hand was on mine. I didn't care though. I was kind of out of it anyway. He visited me more than the others. All the time with this concerned look on his face. I gotta say, it was pretty darn cute. On one of his visits, I think the second time he saw me after the shooting he brought me some flowers. I don't think I had ever been literally speechless until then.

Scotty. He was one of the very few consistencies in my life.

Something suddenly dawned on me. That time I wanted someone to be there with me as I curled up into the cushion of the couch, he was. He came, like he knew I needed him there. He didn't say much. Neither did I. But he did care. Why else would he bother leaving work just to make sure I was 'alright.'

Then when I needed someone more than ever. When Ed was telling me I was going to die, I found myself turning to Scotty for help. I'd said 'hey' just like he had told me earlier to do if I needed him. It was gonna be our code word. I never thought I'd ever be using it though. But I did, and he came running. He saved me. He held me from the floor as I tried my hardest not to fall into a sleep which I knew I wouldn't wake from.

Than after, when I wanted company. I needed company, really. I thought I was going crazy not being able to go to work. He came by. He would tell me about the cases they were working on. Then we'd just sit there. It was exactly what I needed. Just someone to be with and not have to even worry about what to say.

He had always been there. The whole five years I knew him, he had stuck by me. And unlike everybody else he stayed, even when we went through ruff patches. Sure, he'd gotten me so furious at times I thought I would literally explode. Like when he slept with Christina. The one person who I had actually warned him not to touch and he did. But we had worked past it and both moved on.

He was my friend. He was my best friend and I was starting to get the feeling he didn't mind me too much either.

_A/N: Well, what do you think? Should I write another chapter or two and see where it goes from there or just leave it finished here?_


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